The Bitter Taste of Happiness
by littledinosaure
Summary: Regina runs away from love to follow the path her parents have designed for her. Thirteen years later, she comes to face a similar choice as Emma, the mother of her adoptive son, walks into her life. FairyQueen (past)/SwanQueen (present)
1. Chapter 1

Author's note: There are two separate storylines to this story one in the past and one in the future. The story navigates between those two timelines.

_**Christmas Eve**_

_Storybrooke, 24th of December 1999_

_Regina stares out the window as snowflakes twirl, swirl, and waltz right under her eyes. A row of pearly white teeth skims across the surface of her red painted bottom lip before sinking anxiously into it. A sigh escapes her lips tainting the window with condensation. Her small nose presses against the cold surface as she contemplates the snow covered street. One of her hands is holding in its grasp a glass of wine while the other slides pensively down the window frame. _

_The moonlight confers a soft translucent glow to her skin and illuminates the fabric of her blue satin dress. Her usual braid has been substituted for an extricate hairdo that leaves her long graceful neck in display. A single ebony curl of hair frames her youthful features. He eye makeup is light, but her lips are of a vivid crimson shade. Her beauty is not unlike the one of the fairytale princesses she used to read about and aspire to be as a child._

_A faint smile curls her lips upwards at the irony of her thoughts. Her mother has made entirely sure to annihilate all foolish dreams she might have had of having her own happily ever after one day._

_"Life is hard, Regina," she often told her. "Reality is harsh. Happiness is unattainable. Power is the only thing that will bring you a semblance of it." _

_Regina's gaze lowers down to the wine in her hand. She twirls the glass in a soft elegant motion and brings it up to her nose. She inhales the wine's delicate perfume, closing her eyes in appreciation for the briefest second. She tips it between her lips and savor the alcoholised drink with a discreet humming sound. A scarlet mark stains the place where her mouth just met the glass. Regina flushes, glances backwards, and wipes the lipstick off her wine glass with a quick brush of her thumb._

_"I knew you'd be here!"_

_Regina's heart skips a beat. She closes her eyes, mouth going dry. A butterfly storm rises in her stomach, a wild tornado that makes her shiver against her will. He fingers digs into the window's wooden frame as she tries to contain the overwhelming wave of emotion that comes crushing down on her. She turns around. Her lashes flutter with grace and a soft shade of pink colours her cheek. _

_"Tinkerbell..." She says in a barely audible whisper._

_A young woman rests against the study's doorframe, golden strands of hair falling in luscious curls against the fabric of her green coloured gown. Her looks are not as imposing as her friend's, but she is nothing short of stunning. _

_Trish -Tinkerbell, her friend's call her- is Regina's best friend. Tinkerbell comes from a middle class family. Her parents have extremely liberal views and the blonde's upbringing has been different, in many ways, of her own. They met through high school and, to Regina's mother's displeasure, they quickly grew close. There have been many clashes between them, but the two women have always been able to reconcile their diverging opinions._

_"Always so dreamy, Regina," she states, amusement in her voice. "What's on your mind?"_

_Regina shrugs her shoulders and casts her eyes downwards. She takes another sip of wine. She lets the savory drink caress her tongue then swallows it with difficulty. She gazes out the window again, trying to suppress the lump in her throat._

_"Do you want to talk?" Her blonde friend asks._

_Regina is not the most open person when it comes to discussing her feelings, but there was a time when she used to confide in her friend. Their relationship has been different lately. Something about their interactions unsettles her. Tinkerbell's proximity makes her feel uncomfortable and her emotions seem to fall out of her control when it comes to her friend. She often finds herself longing for the beautiful blonde's presence and it terrifies her. _

_She doesn't like to feel attached to other people._

Love is weakness_, her mother has been repeating to her for so long that she has started to believe it._

_"Do I look like I want to talk?" Regina replies, voice dipped in sarcasm. She groans when she notices the wounded look Tinkerbell directs her way. "I'm sorry, Tink, I just-" She exhales a deep breath. "Do you ever get the feeling that everything is just too perfect?"_

_The blonde woman laughs, her eyes twinkling with mirth. _

_"You're not making any sense!"_

_A frown graces Regina's features and she purses her lips. Her eyes glance outside the window and settle on a figure walking up to her house, following the path her father shoveled in the snow earlier that day. She recognizes it as Daniel, her fiancé._

_She worries her lip once more._

_She can feel Tinkerbell's presence right by her side. Her body heat irradiates, acting like a comforting blanket against Regina's skin._

_"He's such a lovely guy," the blonde whisper near her friend's ear, unhooking Regina's fingers from the window's wooden frame and giving a light reassuring squeeze to her hand._

_A shiver courses trough Regina's spine at the feeling of Tinkerbell's breath brushing against the shell of her ear._

_"Yes, he is..."_

_Silence falls over them. Regina tries to concentrate on the dark form moving below but her mind is on the hand holding her own. The physical contact uncomfortable. Their joint hands are quickly turning moist. The sensation is disgusting, unbearable, but somehow she is reluctant to let go. There's something about the friendly gesture that makes her feel embarrassed and immoral, but she craves for it almost desperately. _

_She takes another sip of red wine, her lips lingering pensively against the glass. She pivots her body towards her friend, contemplating her through a gloomy hooded-stare. _

_"You look absolutely ravishing with your hair down like that. It's a remarkable step up from that usual disorganized coiffure of yours."_

_Tinkerbell holds her gaze for a moment, piercing forest green eyes searching her soul. Regina's heart starts hammering hard against her ribcage when the blonde's fingers suddenly increase the pressure they have on her hand._

_"I'll take that as a compliment," Tinkerbell whispers in a breathy tone of voice._

_Regina's tongue darts out, swiping over her suddenly dry lips. The blonde's eyes follow the small movement with unhindered attention. It's barely perceptible, but both women seem to shift slightly forward. _

_Regina clears her throat, breaking the rising tension between them. _

_"It was one," she replies, unclasping their hands and wrapping her arm around her waist._

_"You look beautiful as well," Tinkerbell murmurs in a soft voice._

_There's a slight blush painted across her face. Her gaze is timid yet instant. Her pink parted lips are so close that Regina can feel her breath caress her cheek. _

_The dark haired woman leans forward. Her lips hover over Tinkerbell's. The distance separating them so thin that she feels more than hear the gasp that escapes the blonde's mouth._

"Tink," Regina whispers, traces of lust in her voice.

_The sound of someone knocking at the door resonates into the distance and both women jump backwards. _

_Regina isn't as quick as usual to gain her composure. Her cheeks are of a deep shade of red. Her breath is shallow. The grip she has on her wine glass grows so strong her knuckles turn white. She seems completely disarranged until she finally manages to look away._

_She swallows tickly._

_"I think we should go downstairs and greet Daniel."_


	2. Chapter 2

Storybrooke, 24th of December 2012

"Henry, hurry up! We're going to be late," Regina yells from down the imposing curved staircase of her perfect household.

There are no answers to her call. She gathers her hands over her chest, holding them protectively against her drumming heart. She starts pacing around the first level of her large residence, trying to repress her growing anxiety.

She groans as she notices a pair of shoes laying in the middle of the living-room. A frown overshadows her features and her lips twist into a bitter purse. She curls her fingers into two purposeful fists and makes a beeline towards the small items, her heels clinking loudly against the wooden floor. She absolutely hates living in disorganized spaces. Chaos makes her nervous. She finds it unnerving, exasperating, and highly oppressive.

Ten years ago, Regina and her husband adopted a little boy. Her son, Henry, is the most precious gift life as ever given to her, but she still gets annoyed at the mess he tends to leave behind him.

"What did I tell you about leaving your shoes in the middle of the way?" She shouts a bit louder than before. As always, her voice echoes through her large mansion but nobody replies.

She rolls her eyes, picking her son's sneakers and moving them inside the spacious closet in the main entrance. She closes it with abrupt force. She's about to turn around and call after Henry again when she feels a warm hand splaying soothingly against her lower back.

"Regina, you're doing it again," Daniel tells his wife in a soft tone of voice. He pulls her against him and cradles her into his arms. "Remember what Archie told you about transfer."

"I'm not transferring my anxiety on our son. I'm just tired of repeating the same thing over and over again," she replies, flinching slightly when her husband pushes a rebellious lock of raven hair behind her ear. "Her never listens to me."

Daniel stares at her with a look of patient understanding that infuriates her. She grits her teeth and clenches her jaw, not unlike a petulant child.

"Regina, he's a kid. We're going to be a little late. He left his shoes in the middle of the entrance, so what? Does it really matter."

The raven haired beauty huffs and purses her lips into a sour expression. Anger swirls into her dark pupils like clouds before a stormy weather. She moves away from her husband's asphyxiating embrace. The patronizing way he speaks to her grates on her nerves.

"One of us has to be a little authoritarian," she answers as she searches through the wardrobe for a black trench coat. She hands it to her husband and swishes her wrist with a regal movement. He recognizes the silent order for what it is and holds the black coat up for her.

Regina slips into it without sparring a glance at her husband.

"You're not just a 'little' authoritarian, Regina. Let the kid breathe a little."

She twist on her feet and glares at him.

"Enough," she snaps, ignoring the dejection she reads in her husband's eyes. "Could you go check on our son and see if he's ready?"

Her eyebrows furrow into a scowl as she watches him walk away. She knows Daniel means well but she hates whenever he brings up her sessions with her psychologist. Unlike her husband, she has a hard time establishing a connexion with her son. Her short temper has been affecting her interactions with Henry for a while now. Following her husband's advice, she has decided to seek the help of a professional in order to build tools that would help her mend their complex relationship. She is aware of her short comings concerning her son. She simply doesn't like being constantly reminded of them.

The thumping of Henry's feet running down the stair announces his arrival. His father is not far behind. The small boy is dressed in the small tailored suit she procured for him a few day prior. Her lips stretch into a pearly white smile when she takes in the small purple tie that matches the colour of her dress. She instinctively reaches for her son. The young child throws a glare at her and her hands quickly go from trying to pull him into an embrace to settling for ruffling his hair.

"You look very handsome young man!" She squeals with pride, but she is quickly unsettled by his mask of indifference.

Henry shrugs his shoulders and walks towards the entrance's closet. He takes out his winter coat and throws it over his shoulders. His entire demeanor is purposely careless. Regina knows her son enjoys provoking her. He is constantly testing her limits and, more often than not, she loses her temper. Her fear of being rejected by her son makes her overly clingy and completely irrational.

"Don't forget to put on your scarf," Regina warns him in a soft overprotective motherly voice. She reaches behind him for a small box behind him and takes out a red and grey striped scarf. She wraps it tenderly around his neck, trying her best to disregard the murderous looks her son is sending her way. "We wouldn't want you to catch a cold, would we now?"

"Oh, please! You don't truly care about me." Henry hisses, through his teeth. "You're not even my real mom, you're evil!"

Regina pulls away, taken aback by her son's harsh words. Her hand closes firmly around her son's forearm.

"Breathe," her psychologist's voice comes ringing into her ear. "When you feel like shouting, take a deep breath and count to ten. It will help you control your temper."

She tries to do the exercise he prescribed, but tears are already gathering in her eyes. She hates crying. It's weak. Showing emotions is weak. She straightens up, her hand flexing over the fabric of her black coat.

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. Oh! Fuck it!

"Go sit in the car," she hisses. "Now!"

"Regina!" Daniel whines, sounding disappointed.

"I knew it!" Henry shouts before running out the door. "You're evil and I hate you!

"It's going to be okay," Daniel mouths to his wife before rushing after his son.

She wishes she could believe him.


End file.
